


Surviving

by msdisdain



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 23:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdisdain/pseuds/msdisdain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss and Finnick, during the time Peeta and Annie are prisoners of the Capitol. Written for the Girl on Fire ficathon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surviving

It is only after Finnick has collapsed next to me, breathless and sweaty, that the thought comes to me: I don't think this is what my doctors had in mind when they told me to concentrate on my recovery. 

When I say as much to him, staring up at the ceiling of the supply closet, I can feel his grin before I turn my head to see it. "We could go back to knot-tying," he suggests. "Or," he adds, raising one eyebrow and raising himself up on an elbow, "we could combine this with knot-tying."

I smack him with one hand, even as something twists in my stomach--a good, dark something--at the thought of what Finnick can do with a rope. And then I laugh, just a little, for the first time in weeks. We smile at each other, but his quickly fades from his face and his eyes turn sober. 

"We keep doing this," he says in a near-whisper. 

"Yes."

"How will I ever tell Annie?"

I shake my head. "If you get the chance to, Finnick, you won't. Because it won't matter then. Because we're just...surviving. Do you think I'll tell Peeta that you're the one who..." My voice trails off at the thought of the betrayal Peeta would feel upon finding out I'd given my virginity to Finnick Odair. In a supply closet. And then kept letting him fuck me, for weeks now, while Peeta is enduring who knows what at the hands of the Capitol. As it is, if Peeta and I ever get to do this, how will I explain my...knowledge?

"No, I suppose not," Finnick murmurs. "Although at least I'm not Gale."

I answer him with a rude gesture I've seen Haymitch use while extremely drunk. Finnick, however, grabs my hand and places first one, and then two of my fingers in his mouth. I shudder, and then reach for him, pulling my hand from his mouth and covering his lips with mine. In between kisses already too frantic considering what we've already been doing for over an hour, I rasp, "We're better off not thinking."

By way of agreement, Finnick shifts me on top of him and then lifts my hips, pulling me down--hard--on his cock. He is impossibly hard for the third time in an hour, and with renewed need I slip up and down on him with ease once, twice, too many times to count. 

"Sit up, Katniss," he says after a few minutes.

"Why?" I somehow manage to ask. 

"Because I want to watch you."

I turn red when I realize what he must mean, but push up to my knees anyway. It turns out I am no longer capable of denying Finnick anything. He raises his hips so we remained joined and waits for me to settle into a semi-comfortable position, which I do after a moment. Breathing hard, I ask, "Now what?"

I may be the Mockingjay, but here, Finnick has taken the commanding role. At first I thought I let him because I was so inexperienced, but after the third time I realized: it's because it's the total opposite of how I think Peeta would be in bed, and the only way to continue this--and I must continue this--is to separate it entirely from Peeta and I. And if I'm being truly honest, after having to be in charge of things since I was eleven, it is both thrilling and relieving to give control over to someone else. 

"Touch yourself. Like I touch you."

That dark thing twists in my stomach again and I slowly raise my hands to my breasts, watching him to see if that's what he wants. His chin moves in an almost imperceptible nod. I take a shuddering breath, think about what he does, and close my eyes. 

"Look at me," he snaps. 

My eyes fly open and I meet his gaze. His eyes are slightly narrowed and they glitter at me in the light of the bare bulb overhead. Finnick always goes through a multitude of moods while we do this, and dominant Finnick is infinitely preferable to the Finnick who sobs afterwards. "Now, Katniss," he commands, and with my eyes locked on his, I trace my hands up the sides of my breasts and then brush my ragged nails across my nipples. Their instant pebbling is accompanied by an unexpected burst of heat that surges through me, and Finnick begins to thrust in and out of me. I am so overcome by the feeling of his eyes on me, by what he's asked me to do, by what I am actually doing, that after a more cautious moment or two I begin to pull roughly at my nipples with one hand and move the other one down between my legs. 

Finnick lets out a low growl of approval and, after one more pounding thrust, falls entirely still. "I'm going to watch you make yourself come," he tells me, "and then I'm going to fuck you until you come again." 

The last time my heart pounded this hard was back in the Arena, and the glazed hardness in his eyes has me moving my fingers on my clit rhythmically, frantically while I rock back and forth on his cock. Before these weeks with Finnick, I had done this rarely--in District 12, I shared a room with Prim, and in the District, I was either too exhausted, or sharing a bed with Peeta. And no matter what my feelings for Peeta or his for me, we were not yet ready for...this. But thoughts of Peeta mercifully fly out of my head, and I am pressing and pulling and I've become so sensitive that I can barely stand to touch it any longer. But I'm close, so close, and the look on Finnick's face tells me that I am not to stop. I sit back on my heels slightly and drop my other hand to my side. Finnick has raised himself up on both elbows, his eyes urging me on like a crowd of spectators. This is the last thing I need to push me over the edge, and my fingers slip erratically as I come with a scream I muffle by biting down hard on my lower lip. 

"That's a keeper," he says, his lips curling in a wicked grin of approval. Before I can catch my breath, he has somehow lifted and flipped me almost simultaneously, and I am now beneath him. 

"This isn't fixing anything," he pants, pinning my hands above my head before moving his face to my breasts. 

"No," I manage, as his teeth graze first one nipple, and then the other. I try to move my hands, but he's holding me down with little effort. His teeth bite down more sharply and I let out a cry of pain. He looks up at me but I shake my head. "Again, Finnick. Please!"

And then his hands are everywhere, his teeth are everywhere, and I am sure he's marking me with them but I don't care. I don't care about anything but how he is biting me and licking me, hurting me and soothing it away again and again while he drives into me over and over. I want the pain; this pain is so much better than what I feel when I'm alone with only the dream of Peeta to keep me company. With each hard thrust Finnick catches my clit and I come once, twice more before he muffles a shout in my neck and empties himself into me. 

He cries afterward, briefly, his head against my chest. I hold him--or he holds me--until the shuddering is over. "Sometimes I think this is the only thing keeping me alive, Katniss."

"I know."

And we cling to one another, we two survivors, and our chests rise and fall, but we're not really alive, either of us. Not really. No matter what we do to convince ourselves otherwise. 


End file.
